


No Regrets

by whatsubtext



Category: Roads of Heaven - Melissa Scott
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsubtext/pseuds/whatsubtext





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Borusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borusa/gifts).



The Boar on Delos is a spacefarer’s watering hole, and under other circumstances Silence would have found the bar pleasant but not exciting. She’s been a star pilot for years, and as rare as female pilots are-- Silence herself is the only one she knows of who wasn’t born on matriarchal Misthia-- her rarity in the profession hasn’t kept her from being well-traveled.

Tonight, however, is a special occasion.

Silence Leigh has just gotten married to two men she’s known for less than a week, and they’re having a party at the Boar.

Honestly, her wedding party is more fun than she would ever have expected from a marriage of convenience, at the same time that it’s deeply, terribly awkward. Three-way marriage is legal on Delos, but it’s still fairly rare, and everyone’s eyeing her and her two new husbands with the sort of speculation that makes Silence want to explain that they’re not doing that, in any configuration. She can’t, of course, because the marriage needs to stand for a year before they can all divorce and keep the citizenship papers she and Chase Mago are getting from this marriage to Balthasar-- so she smiles awkwardly and drinks, watching her husbands and touching the brand-new papers in her pocket now and then to reassure herself they’re still there. They mean freedom, unlike her old life under Hegemonic rule. Delos is still free, and Delian citizenship means she can escape the Hegemony and its requirements that all women have a male guardian. These papers are worth the speculative leers and comments of strangers for a night. They’re worth more than that, if necessary.

All the same, the ribaldry she’s hearing on all sides makes her cringe; these are her husband Balthasar’s friends, not people she knows, and they’re giving both her husbands merry, drunken advice on what to do with her later in private, which is not the sort of thing a person can completely ignore. She likes and respects Julie Chase Mago and Denis Balthasar, she does, but the habits of a lifetime are not so easily set aside with a reminder that they’ve all agreed it’s a marriage in name only, that they need her involved just because Delian law doesn’t award citizenship to a same-sex offworld partner. She is vulnerable, whispers paranoia: she will be alone with them on the Sun-Treader once work resumes and they return to the ship, and what if she’s made a terrible mistake in choosing her captain and engineer for the next standard year? She doesn’t think so, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this contract, but--

She pushes out of the knot of people she’s in to go sit by herself after overhearing someone tell Balthasar a little too loudly that Denis is a lucky man, except for having to share her. When Tasarla-- a Misthian, her pride never subject to the kind of patriarchal bullshit Silence has had to put up with to get this far-- comes over to see what’s wrong, Silence finds herself spilling her guts to a woman she’s just met and risking annulling the whole thing. It’s only to get Julie the Delian citizenship papers. Just an additional formality in Silence’s terms of employment with a good crew. They promised it would be a marriage in name only--

The knot of tension in the pit of her stomach relaxes a little the instant she says it out loud, as though saying it aloud will help make it stay true, even before the Misthian’s expression softens. “And you’re worrying about that?”

“Yes. Hell, Tasarla, I hardly know them.”

Tasarla does, though, and she has nothing but praise for them both. It helps still the rest of the nagging worry in the back of Silence’s mind now that the papers have been signed.

Of course, Tasarla’s also a pirate working for Wrath-of-God... but so is Silence now that she’s signed on with Balthasar’s ship, and it does help. Her new papers are freedom, not just another chain.

Later that evening, Silence proposes a toast to Chase Mago, who’s looking rather forlorn but doesn’t resist having his glass stolen for a refill: no regrets. His shy smile when he answers, and his thanks for her friendship, take away the last of her worry. These are good men. These are good people to have as friends.

And then Balthasar brings them both more drinks...

Chase Mago is funny when he relaxes, in an understated way that sets off Balthasar’s wider gestures and snark when they start telling stories together-- Chase Mago the orchestra, as befits an engineer with his touch on a ship’s harmonium, and Balthasar the soloist (although Silence has never heard him sing). They complement each other in an easy, trusting way that makes Silence feel both warm to watch and painfully on the outside. Theirs is a long-standing partnership. These men are friends; they’re comrades, they’re close, they know each other. They’re already a team, and Silence knows she can work with them, but mutual respect and fairness are the seeds for deep friendship, not the flower. It will take time, if it happens at all, and suddenly at this party Silence feels like the odd one out, as with so many gatherings where her gender sets her aside as an oddity: a spacefarer, but not a man. A woman pilot, yet not a Misthian.

And yet...

It’s normally Chase Mago that reaches out with peacemaking overtures, and Balthasar’s sharp tongue is usually the reason he needs to. Even in their relatively brief acquaintance, Silence has had time to see their patterns. She’s paid attention to those patterns while trying to decide if this three-way marriage is going to be worth it, if she can work with them for the year they need.

It’s normally Chase Mago, and yet it’s Balthasar who reaches out to include Silence now in a way that makes her part of the small knot of people gathered around him and part of his story without putting her on the spot. She’s not sure how he does it, just that the scene she’s watching changes to be a scene she’s in without any kind of pressure. There is no discomfort; she’s not even really the center of attention. Balthasar takes that role cheerfully and with skill, spinning charming lies about how they met that ring sincere even to Silence when he talks about appreciating his new wife’s piloting skills. He admits, to a group of his peers, that she’s a better Purgatory pilot than he is, and it clearly doesn’t rankle. The other spacefarers glance approvingly her way, and then somehow the conversation shifts to stories about terrible piloting, two pilots in one ship and both pilots’ visions of Purgatory fighting over the voidmarks as the elemental water that powers the harmonium strives to get the ship closer to Heaven. As easily as that, someone else carries the storytelling while Balthasar falls silent at her side, close enough to touch her and not doing so.

She catches him glancing her way with a little smile, not his usual smirk. Silence knows predatory; there’s nothing predatory about this. It’s more relaxed than she’s used to seeing the Sun-Treader’s captain-- given the amount they’ve all drunk tonight, it might be more relaxed than Balthasar is used to being-- and if she had to put a name on his expression toward her, Silence would have to say he just looks quietly pleased.

It feels so long since she’s been with someone who was just happy to see her having a good time. What would it be like, to have the kind of partnership he and Chase Mago have? It’s wistful and maybe the liquor’s to blame, but her wedding party is unexpectedly nice, and when has she ever really had friends to rely on? Someone presses a cup on Chase Mago that’s big enough for three of them, and apparently that’s what it’s for-- the big engineer offers it to her next. She takes it for formality and has a dutiful sip too before she passes it on, and Balthasar gives her the same grin he gives Julie after glancing into its ruby-liquor depths.

“Is that fair? Last person to drink has to finish this, you know. I hope the two of you are prepared to carry me home. It serves you right.” He tilts his head back and drinks it down in long swallows before either of them can reply. Silence has no time to say she didn’t know, and Chase Mago’s comment that really, they shared the formal cup at the beginning of the night and this one’s not an obligation goes unregarded as their captain keeps drinking.

Balthasar’s throat works smoothly as he drains the cup, head tilted back in rakish abandon, and Silence has to admit it isn’t a bad look on the pirate. She glances at Julie and sees him watching the same thing before he notices her looking. He flushes, ever so slightly. It could be the alcohol. It could be the light.

“If I’d known you were that thirsty, I’d have...” Chase Mago starts to say and trails off, his casual tone no match for Balthasar’s studied wryness, and all Silence can think in the slightly too-long pause before Balthasar lowers the empty cup to answer is _Oh. Is that how it is?_

Balthasar finishes the cup and lowers it, head held high and triumphant. “Would you, now?” he asks, despite the fact that Julie didn’t finish the sentence. “Then it’s only fair I should return the favor. For both of you, of course.” His tongue darts out to catch the droplet of ruby on his lip, and he smiles.

Silence suspects it’s that gesture, as much as fairness, that gets Chase Mago to agree.

She’s not sure why she agrees too, but there’s something about Balthasar’s smile that makes it seem like a good idea just long enough to try it.

The rest of the night passes in a pleasant blur after that, and somehow Chase Mago manages to get them all safely home and into their respective beds. She remembers that much clearly when she wakes up precisely where she should, alone but for a truly terrible hangover.

Someone is trying to move quietly in the common room of their suite. It’s not really working, and Silence eventually levers herself out of bed-- still fully clothed from the night before-- to say something scathing to the interloper and restore the blissful quiet her aching skull craves.

Harsh words die unspoken on her tongue when she opens the door to find Chase Mago and Balthasar both up and tiptoeing around putting together two different trays of three glasses each. The big engineer looks like he spent the night out drinking til the wee hours, which he did; Balthasar, however, manages to make disheveled look intentional.

“Alteresian Sunrise,” Chase Mago says quietly, big voice hushed. He offers Silence one of the glasses on his tray. “Tastes terrible, but it helps the headache.” The liquid within shades from clear to a fine bright orange at the bottom, so bright that Silence winces away from looking directly at it. There appears to be an egg yolk floating on top of it all.

Balthasar winks at her as he hands her one of his glasses next. His isn't pretty, but the pale, opaque green is much easier to look at, and even at arm's length it smells both sharp and delicious. “Nectar of Illune. Doesn’t make you feel any better, but it takes away the taste of the Alteresian Sunrise.”

They’re both right, as it turns out, and despite a wretched hangover Silence can’t help smiling.

She’s actually looking forward to spending the next year with both of them.


End file.
